All The King's Horses
by Midst Ride
Summary: Fenton steps in to help two teenage boys who have been badly abused. The only problem is that Steven Grant isn't letting his sons go so easily, and there will be hell to pay for anyone who dares to interfere with his parenting style. Warn.: Child abuse/AU
1. Chapter 1

_All The King's Horses _

When money meets power, deadly things happen. Fenton Hardy is trying to work on saving the lives of two teens, Frank and Joe Grant, but with their father being the band leader of Flying Pigs, he's having a hard time doing it. After a stabbing incident in the Grant home, Fenton becomes more determened then ever to bring the boys to a safe haven – even if it costs him his own life. AU.

--

**MAJOR AUTHOR NOTE**: Fenton and Laura Hardy are still married in this fic, but their sons are **not** Frank and Joe Hardy, their sons are **Biff and Phil** Hardy. Frank and Joe are still brothers. Iola was never born in this fic, but Chet is still around. Tony and Vanessa do exist in this fiction, but they will be slightly more minor characters. Joe doesn't speak for the first part of this fic, but he'll come around eventually.

FRANK – 16

PHIL – 16

JOE – 14

BIFF – 15

--

"We need the EMTS in here, STAT!" The voice cried out over the system. "I need every avalible unit in here, pronto! We have a Type A with blood loss. Trauma, people, trauma, let's move it!"

"Vitals?"

"Not looking good, boss."

"Pulse?"

"Steady, still holding out—but getting weaker. I don't like it. We need the room cleared for surgery _pronto_, this guy can't wait!"

"What happened?"

"We don't know. Major blood loss, possible head trauma. Said something about a knife."

"Age?"

"Sixteen!"

"Name?"

"Joseph Grant!"

--

"What happened, Frank?" Fenton asked, handing the young teen a cup of coffee. "You said you thought your dad did it. Why?"

"I said I _know_ my dad did it," Frank barked, purpousley making his words harsh. "I watched him do it. I was tryin' to protect Joe and he backhanded me and stabbed him."

Fenton ran his hands through his hair. "I believe you, Frank," he reminded the yougn teen. "Biff and Phil, they were at your house today—"

"They're fine. They left before it happened." Frank paused. "You mean you believe me?"

Nodding, Fenton responded, "Frank, I had your hospital records pulled when Joe came to the house wearing that sling."

"You're allowed to do that?" Frank jumped up in surprise. "That's personal!"

"I'm trying to help, Frank," Fenton reminded him again. "Frank, I am doing everything I can to get you out of this damn system. It said you had a social worker at one point. What happened?"

Frank snorted. "What do you _think_ happened? Dead. My dad murdered her in front of my eyes as a reminder for me not to tell anyone." He winced, as if realizing what he had just said. "That was about the time Joe stopped talking, too."

"So Joe doesn't talk around you, either?" Fenton questioned, now curious. "I know Phil and Biff said he was mute, but I was surprised—he seems normal to me."

"That's because he is normal," Frank retorted. "I think it was the murder that scared Joe into silence. I became a hard case, Joe stopped speaking. Dad didn't care because we didn't tell anyone about the abuse." He let out a breath and moved his gap hoodie to cover his cough. "Once Dad finds out, he'll be here, storming and tearing things up, demanding to see me and Joe. If you think you can help, you should probbably get started… now."

--

_Two hours later_

"What happened, Frank?" Steven said, grabbing the young teen by his sweater and throwing him violently against the wall. "What did you _do_?"

"I din' do anything," Frank protested, but he knew better than to say, _you did it_.

"_Where's Joe?"_

"Keep your voice down, sir," a man barked. "This is a hospital, and our patients need their rest. I suggueset you keep your hands off that young boy or I will personally throw you out myself."

"Who are you?" Steven snapped, turning his wrath on the man and dropping Frank to the seat.

"I'm Mark Taylor, a medical doctor here. I don't care who you are, I'm in charge, and I need you to calm down before you get any of my clients in an uproar. Who are you?"

"My name is Steven Grant. I am the band leader of the Flying Pigs, and I demand to see my son."

"Name?"

"Joseph Grant."

"He's in recovery. You can't see him for another two hours." Fenton had asked him for that, and he had agreed to it. He knew that if Fenton had asked him, it had to be for a good reason. The stab wound on Joe's thigh had looked suspicous and he, too, susspected Steven. And the man's conduct – shoving his own son into a wall – confirmed it. "And I sugguest you stay away from your other son – Frank, right? – until you calm down."

"Exscuse me?" The look on Steven's face became murderous. "What did you just say? Are you trying to tell me how to raise my sons?"

"I'm just sugguesting that if you don't keep your hands off that boy, I can have you charged with child abuse," Mark said calmly as he stepped into the doctor's room.

"You're dead when we get home," Steven muttered to Frank as he sat down next to the worried teen.

And Frank believed it.

--

"What do you mean, there's no evidence here? Do I have to spell it out for you? I want them out of that home _now_ – my own son was hit by that man! Yes, he is abusive, Frank just saw his brother get stabbed today, I think that good and well prooves he is abusive. And, yes, I have filed with you guys before…"

"Calm down, sir," the social worker told him. "You said that there is a suspicious injury?"

"Yes, one of the boys today was stabbed and the other brother watched it happen – it was by the father."

"What I'm going to do is I'm going to pull them out for twenty days, give the father time to calm down after this incident," the woman replied. Her nametag read Tracey White and Fenton found himself wondering if that was the name. "You are approved for foster care, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then what I want you to do is take custody of the boys. I've got the paperwork here. I'm going to book Steven on suspicion for child abuse – does he know where you live?"

"No, but he can probbably find out."

She sighed. "I sugguest, then, keeping the boys with someone at all times. You said one's a mute?"

"He signs, but yeah."

"Then keep them under _close _guard at all times." She sighed. "We know. We had one social worker die under suspicious circomstances, and we fought, but we couldn't do anything about it. We had no proof and they moved pretty soon afterwords. The boys just fell off our ladder. I'm really regretting that now. Best wishes, Fenton. I hope you can stop this thing."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah, I do too."

--

So what do you think of the total AU-ness? Any questions, ask. Five reviews gets an update…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

First Day, Bayport High, Sept. 1st, 2009

Frank Grant looked at his half-brother in disbelief. "Joe," he said, but his smile faltered instantly as his father came into view. "Never mind," he grumbled as he sat down at the table, accepting the box of cereal for his brother.

"Frank, might I have a word with you?" his father asked, his voice unusually harsh.

"Not now," Frank responded. "I have to get Joe ready for class." He knew that normally Joe would protest 'I'm not an invalid', but both boys could see the anger i their father's eyes rising and sensed the storm coming.

"I don't think that's what I asked, Frank," his father said, his voice deceptively calm. He grabbed Frank by the throat and shoved him into the back wall. "Now, what are we going to tell the social worker when she gets here?"

"That J-Joe..." Frank gulped, knowing that if he began to lie Joe would no doubt suffer. "That J-Joe b-broke his arm by f-falling off a tree."

"Good boy," his father said mockingly. "And don't forget, Bayport High is known for its good grades. I want good reports. Anything less than an A, Frank, and we've got problems. That call from the teacher last year is still fresh in my mind."

--

"Hey! The new kids!" Biff Hardy smiled at the bothers. The younger of the two bothers, he was the most loud spoken of the two, almost a contrast to Phil's quiet nature. "I'm Biff Hardy -- and this is my bother, Phil. Good to meet you."

"I'm Frank, and this is Joe," Frank responded, introducing his brother. "He's, uh, mute."

"Ah," Biff said. "That's ok. We'll get along just fine. Actually, once his arm heals, we've been looking for a new football player."

"Biff, you're going to kill them on their first day in," Phil responded, the first words he'd spoken. He frowned. He already didn't like something about the two brothers; something was off. It wasn't that he disliked them. Perhaps it was because -- he shook his head. No. It couldn't be that. "What happened to Joe's arm?"

"Oh, he fell off a tree," Frank replied casually. "Come'n, Joe. Let's go get your classes settled before I miss first period. Nice meeting you, Biff, Phil. Joe! Get your ass off the ground and let's move it!"

--

"What'd you think?" Phil asked, looking at his younger brother.

"I don' know..." Biff frowned, looking at the two younger brothers. "I like 'em, but I can't help but get the feeling that something's... well, wrong."

"Yeah," Phil responded, "I got the same feeling, too." He paused. "Come on. We can't do anything but go to class -- which, it's almost time for first period, by the way. Just try and get buddy-buddy with Joe. Call me overprotective, but I don't think he broke his arm by falling off that tree."

--

PRESENT DAY - Bayport Hospital

"Frank?" Frank blinked, waking up. Joe had been out of surgery for a few hours now, and he had been waiting for the doctor to come say something. Actually, truthfully, honestly, he had been waiting for his father to come and say something.

"Yes." Frank's head snapped instantly up. "Oh, hey, Phil."

Phil sat down on the couch next to him, looking at the school textbook Frank was nervously clutching in his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Frank admitted. He refused to admit that he didn't want to go to bed because of the nightmares. "Being up half the night will do that to you," he added jokingly.

"Man, it is after ten, isn't it? How long have you guys been up?" Phil questioned, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, Joe's been out," he corrected Phil, "but I've been up ever since six-thirty in the morning." He exhaled slowly. "You think your dad can really do something?"

"I don't know," Phil responded honestly. He had seen the wrath of Frank's father, and didn't want to cross paths ever again. He could easily believe the man would break his son's arm. He, after all, had seen his own brother get punched by the man. "I know he'll try his hardest, though, don't worry about that. Frank? Why did Joe stop speaking? You said he wasn't always mute."

Frank sighed, regretting that little revelation now. "It was right after that social worker died. Remember, Dad killed her, while we were there. He buried her body. He --" Frank swallowed hard. "He made us clean up the mess," he said, burying his face in his hands.

"Hey, it's okay, Frank. Nobody blames you."

"He cut her tongue out..." Frank shivered, reliving the event. "And that's -- Joe had stopped speaking two days before that. But he didn't -- I don't know, Phil. I think he said something that scared Joe into silence. I just wish I knew what it was..."

"Frank, are you okay?" Fenton asked, coming into the bedroom.

Frank shook his head. "Just thinking," he muttered darkly.

Fenton nodded. "Frank, I've got things worked out so you can stay at my house for the next few nights. We're working on revoking you father's custody of you - and more importantly, get him arrested," Fenton explained. "In the mean time, though, I am going to ask you and Joe to stay home from school, and Phil and Biff to stay home from school, also. Phil, I don't want you anywhere around that man."

"Yes, sir." Phil nodded enthusiastically. He was never one to disagree with his father, but even if he was now was not a time he would have chosen t disagree. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "Dad, I think Frank has something he has to tell you..."


End file.
